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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25230178">Something to Care About</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/toyhto/pseuds/toyhto'>toyhto</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Something to Care About [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman (Movies - Nolan)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, And John finds him, Bane doesn't die, But who doesn't really, Dubious Consent, John Has Issues, M/M, Slightly different ending for The Dark Knight Rises, This is fiction not relationship advice, Threats of Violence, You Have Been Warned</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 05:01:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>17,385</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25230178</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/toyhto/pseuds/toyhto</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Bane isn't dead. John doesn't know what to do with him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bane (DCU)/John Blake</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Something to Care About [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1849414</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>121</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Something to Care About</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So, I saw The Dark Knight Rises and what I'm going to do, well of course write a semi-dark story about these two boys. The dubious consent tag is there for a reason, and that reason is mostly that I'm finding it hard to evaluate how dubious it is. Don't read this if you got worried about the tags. This story didn't maybe turn out as dark as I intended, but, beware. This isn't how you should start a relationship. (Also, I feel like this is a ship that's not famous for it's Healthy Relationship stories. But I'm making my best to warn you guys in case a Healthy Relationship is what you're here for.)</p><p>I've only seen the movie once and I spent a considerable time searching for Bane/John Blakes stories to read instead of actually watching the movie. Therefore, my fandom knowledge might not be strong. I do know how to google, but I hope my lack of fandom facts doesn't show in this story.</p><p>There's at least a 50 percent chance that I'm going to write a sequel to this. We'll see about that. Meanwhile, I'll be on <a href="http://toyhto.tumblr.com">tumblr</a>.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He finds Bane in the ruins of the city hall.<br/>
<br/>
When he sees Bane, his first instinct is to reach for his gun. But Bane is dead. He’s lying on the floor in a stain of half-dried blood. He looks like he’s been shot in the chest with something that’s ripped off most of his gear and considerable part of his skin and flesh. It didn’t hit his face, though. The mask is still on.<br/>
<br/>
John walks closer to Bane. His ears are ringing. He doesn’t know what exactly he’s doing here. He should be celebrating. He should be relieved and happy, and he <em>is. </em>He just can’t feel it. He wants to go home and sleep for a week and forget about the past three months. It’s difficult to remember who he was before all this.<br/>
<br/>
He kicks Bane softly on the side. Even as dead, Bane is intimidating. Someone’s going to have to clean this place up and move the body, but that’s not John. He’s going to go home. He’s going to -<br/>
<br/>
He freezes.<br/>
<br/>
Bane blinks twice and then opens his eyes.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
**<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
There aren’t many options.<br/>
<br/>
He could kill Bane. Anyone in their right mind would do that. Bane’s already half-dead. John’s holding a gun at him, trying to ignore how his own hands are shaking. He should finish the job someone else started and shoot Bane in the face, right between his eyes.<br/>
<br/>
“<em>Kill me</em>,” Bane says, blinking. He looks like he’s trying to look at John, maybe to bargain with him, but he doesn’t have the strength to keep his eyelids open.<br/>
<br/>
John lowers the gun.<br/>
<br/>
The sound Bane makes isn’t words, but isn’t breathing either. It’s like he’s growling at John with his broken metallic voice.<br/>
<br/>
He could kill Bane. No one would find out that it was him who pulled the trigger for the last shot. And no one would care.<br/>
<br/>
Or he could leave Bane here. In a few days, someone else is going to find him. Surely he won’t be alive then. Maybe it’s going to take him a while to die, but John’s not going to pity him. He doesn’t fucking care how much Bane suffers. Bane can lie here in his own blood and shit and think about everything he’s done.<br/>
<br/>
“<em>Kill,</em>” Bane says and then twitches on the floor like a dying animal.<br/>
<br/>
John tries to grasp his badge and remembers he threw it in the river. He’s not a police officer anymore. If he were, the right thing to do would be to arrest Bane. He should call for help, and then take Bane to the station and let others worry about the rest. Surely there wouldn’t be a trial. Bane would be dead long before that. And the whole city is in chaos, or in a shock after three months of fear and terror. Maybe someone at the station would shoot Bane in the head and that would be the end of it.<br/>
<br/>
John kneels down on the floor. The blood sticks into the bottom of his boots. He presses his gun lightly against Bane’s throat and Bane tries to catch his breath. Through the mask it sounds like something’s been dragged through a box of nails.<br/>
<br/>
“Stand up,” he says. His voice is thin and shaky but he’s the one who’s not half-unconscious from lethal injuries.<br/>
<br/>
Bane looks at him like he doesn’t understand what John just said.<br/>
<br/>
“Stand up,” John says again, pulls his gun away and stands up himself.<br/>
<br/>
Bane blinks.<br/>
<br/>
“You’re going to stand up,” John says, “and you’re going to come with me.” He’s sure Bane isn’t going to inch. He could tell Bane that he’s going to shoot the man in the head if he doesn’t obey. But that’s probably what Bane wants. And that’s one of the best scenarios of what could happen to Bane after this. There’s nothing for John to bargain with.<br/>
<br/>
He’s just about to turn around and walk away, when Bane shifts on the floor.<br/>
<br/>
“Slowly,” he tells Bane, but Bane’s not even looking at him now. The man stands up, leaning against the wall heavily like it’s the only thing that’s keeping him upright. It probably is. He straightens his back, takes a step, and collapses onto John.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
**<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
This is the stupidest thing John’s ever done in his life, and he’s done a few things that were pretty stupid. Nothing compares to this, though. Absolutely nothing. He should have shot Bane in the head when he first realized the man wasn’t dead yet. It would have been mercy – and there’s a nagging voice in his mind telling him that’s the reason why he didn’t do it.<br/>
<br/>
He’s sure someone’s going to stop them. But he takes the shortest road through the back alleys that are a mess anyway, and the few people who see them pretend they didn’t. It’s late at night or early in the morning and the city’s quiet, either holding its breath or possibly just too fucking tired. He feels like he’s dragging Bane through a graveyard.<br/>
<br/>
And he is dragging Bane. At first he thinks they aren’t going to make it to the stairs, then he thinks they aren’t going to make it out of the building. Bane’s close to falling onto his face at every other step and soon enough, John’s going to fall with him and hit his face on the floor and that’s going to be it. He’s going to die like this, crushed under the weight of the cruelest terrorist Gotham’s ever seen, and for nothing. He shouldn’t be doing this. But Bane’s arm stays on his shoulder and Bane staggers forward at his side, panting, and it sounds like a robot dying. Not that he knows what that sounds like. Maybe he’s finally gone mad. Maybe this all has been a little too much, and now he’s lost it. That’s probably the case, because it seems that he’s trying to take Bane to his flat, and there’s no reason for him to be doing that, unless he is indeed crazy.<br/>
<br/>
He takes Bane to his flat. The second they’re inside, he lets Bane fall onto the floor. He locks the door, walks past Bane and sits down onto the floor as far away from him as possible. He still has his gun. He points it at Bane and listens to his own heartbeat which isn’t slowing down. Bane doesn’t move, but he’s breathing. John can see it from his shoulders. He can’t fucking believe that he brought Bane to his flat.<br/>
<br/>
He sits on the floor for a while longer. When he stands up, for a second he thinks he’s going to faint. Then he throws up. It mixes well with the smell of shit and piss and blood. He breathes in and out for a few seconds and then walks to the kitchen, drinks half a glass of water until he thinks he’s going to throw up again, doesn’t throw up but goes back to Bane instead. Bane hasn’t moved, but his eyes are open, and he’s looking at John. John takes a deep breath.<br/>
<br/>
What the fucking hell is he doing?<br/>
<br/>
He goes back to the kitchen and finishes drinking that glass of water. Everything in him is aching, and he’s so tired he thinks he’s swaying, but he’s also awake like someone’s keeping a knife on his throat or something. Maybe that’s what a terrorist at the front door does to you.<br/>
<br/>
“I can’t have you die in my flat,” he says to Bane when he goes back, and it’s like someone’s poured something cold on him. He can’t have Bane die in his flat, because then he’s going to have to answer questions about why he brought Bane here, and he doesn’t have answers. There’s no answer that would make sense. The best case scenario is that he’s lost his mind. The worst case scenario is that they’ll think he’s working for Bane. He’s going to be screwed, and he can’t bring himself care much, but he doesn’t have the energy to deal with that, either.<br/>
<br/>
So, Bane needs to live.<br/>
<br/>
“I need you to stay alive until I figure out what to do,” he tells Bane. At least his voice isn’t shaking anymore. Bane looks even bigger now that he’s lying on the floor in John’s tiny apartment, but he also looks like he’s about to pass out or die.<br/>
<br/>
John clears his throat. “Did you hear me?”<br/>
<br/>
Bane blinks at him. Well, he wasn’t expecting them to have a chat about this.<br/>
<br/>
“If you hurt me,” he says and waves his gun at Bane’s face, “I’m going to make you suffer much more.” He’s not exactly sure how he would do that, because Bane must be in incredible pain already. But he’s willing to give it a try.<br/>
<br/>
He keeps his gun where Bane can’t reach it and comes closer.<br/>
<br/>
The thing is, he knows a few things about patching someone up. That kind of information has been useful for him before. What he doesn’t know is what to do with someone who has had half of his chest ripped off or so it seems. What is worse, he doesn’t know why he’s trying. But he cuts the rest of Bane’s gear and shirt off with scissors and a kitchen knife and cleans what he can, even though the mess that used to be the left side of Bane’s upper body looks like it’s beyond cleaning. He puts bandages on the injuries and it feels like putting a band-aid on a broken leg.<br/>
<br/>
The only thing he does to Bane about the lower half of his body is that he ties Bane’s ankles tightly together. The injuries seem to be above the waist anyway. He ties Bane’s wrists too and then handcuffs him to the heater, certain that it wouldn’t hold Bane back for a second if he wasn’t badly injured. But it’s the gesture which counts.<br/>
<br/>
Finally, he makes sure that Bane’s still breathing and goes to the bathroom. First he locks the door, then he unlocks it and pushes it ajar. He can’t hear anything. He closes the door again and pisses in the toilet. It’s like his head is full of mud. He closes his eyes for a second. There’s no way he’s going to sleep tonight.<br/>
<br/>
He sleeps for a few hours. When he wakes up, he can’t remember what’s happened, and then it all comes back. He climbs off the bed. All his muscles are hurting, he’s got a headache and his feet feel numb. The bedroom door is ajar, because he left it that way. The flat smells terrible. He walks to the front door, and there, lying on the carpet, is Bane, still alive.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
**<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
He should call Gordon. Gordon would know how to fix this. Gordon would at least try.<br/>
<br/>
He takes his phone, dials the number and then just stays there. Bane’s on his feet, quiet and unmoving.<br/>
<br/>
He puts the phone away.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
**<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
So, he’s gone crazy. That’s not a surprise. There’s nothing left. He did everything he could to save Gotham, but Gotham’s not the same, and he’s not the same. He doesn’t know what to do, so he eats what he can find in the kitchen, changes into sweatpants and a t-shirt and then goes to Bane and starts undressing the rest of him.<br/>
<br/>
He has to untie Bane’s ankles to get the pants off, but Bane doesn’t kick him in the head, and doesn’t say anything either, just lies there, probably wishing he was dead. That’s good. That’s what he deserves. John tugs down his underwear as well and throws it out with the trousers. He’s not going to do Bane’s laundry for him. He almost laughs when he thinks about himself folding Bane’s now-clean boxers, and then he wants to hit himself in the head, but he’s got a feeling that it wouldn’t help a bit. So, he concentrates on the what he’s doing, and what he’s doing is that he’s trying to clean the mess Bane’s made in a day. He just wishes he could drag Bane to the bathroom for this and push him to the shower cubicle, but there’s no way he’s going to move Bane unless he absolutely needs to.<br/>
<br/>
When he’s dealt with piss and shit, he undoes the bandages on Bane’s chest. There’s new blood but not much. The job he did at stitching yesterday isn’t as crappy as he thought. Bane’s going to die but maybe not before John manages to figure out what to do with him.<br/>
<br/>
He’s about to stand up and go make coffee when he realizes Bane’s looking at him.<br/>
<br/>
“Who –“ Bane says.<br/>
<br/>
John tugs at the handcuffs. They hold. “Shut up.”<br/>
<br/>
“Who – are – you?” Bane asks, taking breaks in between the words.<br/>
<br/>
John stands up and looks down at Bane. He used to be something. He used to be a police officer, and then a detective. Maybe he’s never been exactly sure who he <em>is </em>but he used to know who he wanted to be.<br/>
<br/>
The silence is ringing in his ears. He wants coffee and a bath. At his feet, Bane is lying on the floor, naked except for the bandage.<br/>
<br/>
“My name is Robin,” he says and walks to the kitchen.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
**<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
Gordon calls him in the afternoon. He doesn’t answer. Through the window, he can see people on the streets. They seem confused about how to act. Even the sunshine looks dim, or maybe the window glass is dusty. His headache is getting worse, no matter how much coffee he drinks.<br/>
<br/>
“Robin,” Bane says.<br/>
<br/>
John looks through the window as two kids ran through the street. He thought so many times that he was going to die, and now that he’s alive, he doesn’t have a fucking clue what to do with it.<br/>
<br/>
Except to try to keep a terrorist alive.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m not your servant,” he tells Bane, as he walks to the man and stops in front of his face. It’s great that Bane’s half-dead, because otherwise he would’ve killed John already. He wouldn’t need a gun for it, he could snap John’s neck with his bare hands. Or strangle him. Or hit him in the head and break his skull. Or -<br/>
<br/>
“Robin,” Bane says again and then glances down at himself.<br/>
<br/>
John stares at him for a few seconds and then realizes. “You need to go to the bathroom?”<br/>
<br/>
Bane just looks at him.<br/>
<br/>
Well, this is ridiculous. He takes his gun. It makes him feel a little better, even though having it with him probably doesn’t keep Bane from killing him. He opens the handcuffs and cuts the ties from Bane’s ankles but leaves his wrists tied. Then he watches as Bane crawls to the bathroom. He doesn’t offer to help. He doesn’t close the door, either, and Bane doesn’t either, so he just stands there outside the bathroom with the gun at his hand, when Bane sits down on the toilet seat. Maybe this is what people feel when they stare at crime scenes or accidents. He wonders vaguely what Bane is thinking, if he’s embarrassed that John’s watching, or if he’s furious. He doesn’t look embarrassed or furious, just tired. Or empty. Like John.<br/>
<br/>
He waits until Bane’s finished. There’s a new red patch in the bandage he wrapped Bane’s chest with this morning.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m going to give you to the police,” he tells Bane.<br/>
<br/>
“Kill me,” Bane says, but he sounds like he’s thinking about something else. He tries to stand up from the toilet seat and hits his shoulder to the wall. The sound of his breathing grows more frantic. He stays there for a moment, frozen in John’s bathroom, and then he glances at John. “What happened?”<br/>
<br/>
<em>Oh.</em><br/>
<br/>
John bites his lip.<br/>
<br/>
“Batman took your bomb to the sea.”<br/>
<br/>
Bane stares at him with an empty look at his eyes.<br/>
<br/>
“He beat you,” John says. “He –“<br/>
<br/>
“Miranda,” Bane cuts in, and suddenly there’s a look in his eyes as if he’s expecting John to hit him. “Where’s –“<br/>
<br/>
John clears his throat. “Miranda Tate is dead.”<br/>
<br/>
He doesn’t know what he was waiting for, but not this. It looks like Bane doesn’t remember how to hold himself up anymore. He falls on the floor, hits his shoulder against the edge of the toilet seat and doesn’t even seem to notice. The red patch in the bandage is growing. Bane closes his eyes.<br/>
<br/>
“Don’t move,” John says and takes a step back. “If you move, I will shoot you.”<br/>
<br/>
He doesn’t know if Bane heard him. He goes to get new bandages and the handcuffs anyway.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
**<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
He's watching the evening news on the television when he hears Bane shifting on the floor behind his back.<br/>
<br/>
He looks over his shoulder. He left Bane just outside the bathroom. Now Bane’s trying to lift his head up from the floor, to look at John – no, to look at the television. He’s blinking and if John didn’t know better, he’d think Bane is upset.<br/>
<br/>
He looks at the television again. There’s a picture of Miranda Tate. He turns on the volume. Everything in the news feels like fiction or a dream. He listens to the reporter talking about her in a shocked tone. Apparently they’re still trying to figure out her connection to Bane. The picture changes into video footage of her body at the front seat of the van. The quality of the video is so poor it’s hard to make sense any of it, and the hands holding the camera must have been shaking. But she looks like she’s dead already. From behind his back, John can hear Bane trying to crawl closer to the television.<br/>
<br/>
“Stop,” he says and then glances at the man. Bane doesn’t seem to hear him.<br/>
<br/>
John brushes his thumb against the grip of the gun he has on his knee. “So, how did you know her?”<br/>
<br/>
Bane ignores him, trying to crawl forward on the floor.<br/>
<br/>
The news clip changes. Now there’s a map of Gotham, and someone’s talking about the rebuilding and how much it will cost. Bane breathes out and stills.<br/>
<br/>
“Did you love her or something?” John asks, turning to him. He should stop. It doesn’t matter what Bane felt for Miranda Tate. Actually, John’s an idiot for thinking that there might be a love story there. He shouldn’t be expecting an explanation for why Bane did everything he did. There’s no explanation for doing something like that.<br/>
<br/>
“Yes,” Bane says.<br/>
<br/>
John breathes in and out. “What?”<br/>
<br/>
Bane’s eyes wander around a little and then stop at him. “Who killed her?”<br/>
<br/>
“Batman,” John says without thinking. “He’s dead, too. He killed her and took your bomb out to the sea.”<br/>
<br/>
“Batman killed…”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah,” John says, leaning closer over the back of the chair. He can’t read the look in Bane’s eyes. There’s too much. Bane didn’t look at him like that in the city hall where he was begging John to kill him. “You two were working together,” John says. He doesn’t have a clue why he says it. “Who was the boss? You or her?”<br/>
<br/>
Bane is quiet for a long time. John’s pretty sure he’s not going to answer, but then he does. “Her. Of course.”<br/>
<br/>
“Of course?”<br/>
<br/>
Bane just looks at him.<br/>
<br/>
“So, was it her idea, then? Your big plan in Gotham?”<br/>
<br/>
“I need to –“ Bane says slowly and breathes in. “Revenge –”<br/>
<br/>
“Batman’s dead,” John says. His heart is beating faster. “All you’ve got is me.”<br/>
<br/>
Bane lets out something that could be a laugh.<br/>
<br/>
“What?” John asks, fumbling the gun. “You don’t think I’m dangerous? I helped Batman. I took you here. I could still make you suffer. I could –”<br/>
<br/>
“Robin,” Bane says. John flinches. It sounds strange, his real name, said in Bane’s voice. “I’m done,” Bane adds.<br/>
<br/>
“Done?” John repeats. His voice is thin and his hand holding the gun is shaking again. He makes sure that the safety is on. Bane doesn’t look like he’s going to do much else than crawl on the floor, and John doesn’t want to shoot himself in the knee. “What do you mean, you’re done?”<br/>
<br/>
Bane closes his eyes.<br/>
<br/>
“You’re alive,” John says and stands up. “Your injuries are bad and I don’t know what more I could do with them, so it certainly looks like you’re going to die, but you aren’t dead yet. I brought you here. You aren’t <em>done.</em>”<br/>
<br/>
Bane doesn’t answer.<br/>
<br/>
“Listen to me,” John says, walks to him and nudges his side with his feet. Bane doesn’t inch. “You aren’t going to die here. I forbid it.”<br/>
<br/>
He thinks Bane’s laughing at him, but it’s hard to tell.<br/>
<br/>
“I used to be a cop,” he says. “I know how to hurt people.”<br/>
<br/>
“You don’t know anything,” Bane says.<br/>
<br/>
He kicks Bane in the side. Not hard. Just hard enough that Bane knows he means it. He could kill Bane in a whim. Bane should take him seriously. Bane should respect him. Bane should -<br/>
<br/>
Bane’s eyes follow him, and the bastard looks <em>delighted.</em><br/>
<br/>
“I’m going to kill you,” John tells him. “Later. I just need to…” But he can’t figure out what to say, so he turns his back to Bane and leaves the room. His tiny bedroom is the only room in the house with a door to close. Except for the bathroom, but he’s not going to hide from Bane in the bathroom. He walks to the window, rests his hands on his hips and takes deep breaths. The only sound in the room is his own heart beating inside his head. Outside, the fucking sun is still shining.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
**<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
Gordon calls him again in the evening. He stares at the phone for a moment, takes it and goes to the bedroom. He lets the door ajar. Bane’s still on the floor in front of the bathroom. He looks dead but isn’t, John checked ten minutes ago.<br/>
<br/>
“Hi, Gordon,” he says to the phone, eyes on Bane. Bane doesn’t inch.<br/>
<br/>
“John,” Gordon says, sounding so relieved that John immediately feels bad. He should have at least answered Gordon’s call earlier today. It was the least he could do. “Are you… how are you?”<br/>
<br/>
“Fine,” he says. It feels like a lie, even though he’s not exactly sure why. He <em>is </em>fine.<br/>
<br/>
“I tried to call you earlier.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, I know.” He takes a deep breath. “Sorry. I was… This is weird.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah,” Gordon says slowly. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure it’s going to take a lot of time to get back to normal. I just called to make sure that you are… I hope you aren’t alone, John. No one should be alone right now.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m not alone,” John says, watching Bane’s body on his floor.<br/>
<br/>
“Great,” Gordon says, relieved again. “That’s great. I’m glad. I’m… I’m going to call you again later, alright? Just to…”<br/>
<br/>
“Alright,” John says, when it becomes obvious that Gordon isn’t going to finish that sentence. “I think I’m going to try to sleep.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, you do that.” Gordon is quiet for a moment. “Maybe I’ll call you tomorrow. And remember that if you want to come back, we’ll have you. In a heartbeat.”<br/>
<br/>
John tells him that he’s not going to come back. He’s not a cop anymore. He’s sure that the call is about to end and takes a step towards Bane. He should probably find a blanket or something. Bane doesn’t look like he’s cold, but he’s been lying naked on that floor for hours now, and it can’t be comfortable. Not that John cares. But it’s not like he wants to stare at Bane’s naked body anyway.<br/>
<br/>
“John,” Gordon says. There’s a new tone to his voice. “I don’t want you to worry you, but…”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah?”<br/>
<br/>
“We haven’t found Bane.”<br/>
<br/>
John breathes in. He’s going to need more than one blanket, if he means to cover all of Bane. “You haven’t found Bane –“<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah,” Gordon says. Bane still doesn’t move. It’s impossible to know if he’s listening or not, but John has a feeling that he is. He’s got to be, unless he’s unconscious or asleep. And he doesn’t seem to be hurting more than he already was, and John can’t make himself believe that Bane would <em>sleep</em> like a regular human being. “We thought we’d find his body in the city hall. I thought Batman left him there. But we found nothing.”<br/>
<br/>
“Really?” John asks, his voice coming out a little worried. Not for the right reasons, probably.<br/>
<br/>
“We’re looking for him, of course,” Gordon says. “Most of the men I can spare right now are looking for him. He’s seriously injured, so he can’t have gone far, and certainly not on his own. I’m sure we’re going to find him soon, and whoever has been helping him. We’ve managed to keep it from the press so far.”<br/>
<br/>
“So, it’s just the police who know he’s disappeared.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah. We don’t want to cause panic.” Gordon pauses. “We’re going to find him, John.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, I’m sure,” John says. “Thanks for telling me, Gordon. Good night.”<br/>
<br/>
He hangs up. Bane is looking at him from the floor.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
**<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
He eats the rest of the tuna and chocolate biscuits from his cupboard. They don’t go well together and after, he’s still hungry but can’t make himself go to buy groceries. The front door looks like miles away. He watches the news on the television but there’s nothing about Bane, and then he takes a quick shower, brushes his teeth and opens the bathroom door. He can’t open it all the way, because Bane is lying there.<br/>
<br/>
“You need to go to the bathroom?” he asks.<br/>
<br/>
Bane blinks a few times and then nods.<br/>
<br/>
John undoes the handcuffs. It all feels more familiar now. He brushes his fingers against Bane’s impossibly thick wrists and wonders if Bane could kill him and is saving it for later for some reason, but he can’t make himself to care. He unties Bane’s ankles and then tries to help somewhat inefficiently as Bane drags himself over the doorstep and pulls himself up to sit on the toilet seat. John takes a few steps back but doesn’t leave, and Bane doesn’t seem to mind. Well, there’s nothing John hasn’t already seen.<br/>
<br/>
“Do you want to brush your teeth or something?” he asks, when Bane is ready.<br/>
<br/>
Bane looks at him in a sharp movement. He bites his lip. He’s not <em>smiling</em>, it would be absurd, it’s just that… it’s difficult to believe that Bane has a mouth, but he has to have, because he talks. And if he has a mouth, maybe he has teeth, and if he has teeth, maybe he should brush them. John’s a good host. He's pretty sure he’s got a spare toothbrush somewhere.<br/>
<br/>
“No,” Bane says. He looks angry. For some reason that makes John feel better. That’s exactly what Bane should be at him, angry, not nonchalant as if John’s not a threat to him.<br/>
<br/>
“No? Don’t you have teeth?”<br/>
<br/>
Bane’s eyes go narrow.<br/>
<br/>
“Because I’ve got a spare toothbrush somewhere, I’m sure,” John says. He feels light in the head, like he's a little drunk. Oh, god, it’s been forever since he’s been drunk. “I’ll even lend you my toothpaste.”<br/>
<br/>
Bane actually growls at him.<br/>
<br/>
“It’s important to take care of your teeth,” John says. “Did you know that it’s actually a health risk if you ignore your teeth? I really think you should consider –“<br/>
<br/>
He closes his mouth when Bane grabs the sink and stands up. He takes a step back, and Bane sways towards him and then falls onto the doorstep. The sound he makes now is definitely pain. John takes a deep breath and fumbles for his gun, but it’s not there in his pocket. <em>Shit.</em> He backs away another feet but Bane’s on the floor, breathing too quickly.<br/>
<br/>
“I see that you aren’t interested in brushing your teeth,” John says, even though his voice is shaking. “Maybe tomorrow.” Then he goes to his bedroom and closes the door. He’s sweating and his heart is beating like crazy. This isn’t going to end well.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
**<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
He finds two blankets and takes them to Bane, but Bane is still lying on the doorstep. It must hurt like hell, pressing against his back. John stares at Bane for a while and tells himself that he doesn’t need to apologize for what he said about brushing teeth. Maybe Bane doesn’t have teeth. John doesn’t fucking care. Then he puts the blankets on the floor, kneels down and helps Bane crawl a little forward so that he's not at the doorway anymore. Bane’s shoulder is rising and falling in a rapid rhythm. John pats it.<br/>
<br/>
He puts the blankets on Bane, one covering Bane’s upper body and one covering his waist and legs. Bane’s looking at him as if this might be the most dangerous thing John’s done for him so far.<br/>
<br/>
“Good night,” John says and goes to his bedroom. Bane doesn’t answer.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
**<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
It's raining. John wakes up to the sound of water falling against the window glass. He feels like he’s slept almost enough, but when he closes his eyes again, he remembers Bane. The flat is quiet. He takes the gun, walks to the bedroom door and pushes it open. Bane’s on the floor, covered in two blankets, exactly like John left him.<br/>
<br/>
John walks closer and kneels down in front of Bane’s face. He can’t hear anything. He just fucking wishes Bane isn’t dead, because if he is, John’s going to have to get rid of the body somehow, and he’s pretty sure he can’t do that on his own. He’s going to need a trolley.<br/>
<br/>
Bane opens his eyes and blinks at him. “What’re you going to do with me?”<br/>
<br/>
He leans back and falls onto his ass. Bane just watches him. He takes a good grip of the gun and then breathes in and out. He should get Bane out of his flat. He should get Bane arrested.<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t know,” he says.<br/>
<br/>
“You’re crazy,” Bane says.<br/>
<br/>
“Maybe.”<br/>
<br/>
“You were talking to James Gordon.”<br/>
<br/>
John rubs his chin. He’s in trouble.<br/>
<br/>
“Yesterday.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah,” he says.<br/>
<br/>
“They don’t know –“ Bane says and blinks, probably in pain, “that I’m in here.”<br/>
<br/>
 John doesn’t say anything.<br/>
<br/>
“You didn’t tell…”<br/>
<br/>
“No,” John says, “no, I didn’t.”<br/>
<br/>
“Stupid,” Bane says. He’s kind of right about that.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m not stupid,” John says. “I’m not. It’s just that I…” He takes a deep breath. He needs coffee, and a shower, and he needs something to eat. And he needs to change Bane’s bandages and help Bane to the bathroom so that the man doesn’t shit himself again.<br/>
<br/>
“You don’t know –“ Bane says, “what you are doing.”<br/>
<br/>
“Bullshit,” John says. Bane’s right about that, too.<br/>
<br/>
“Kill me,” Bane says. There’s something about his eyes. John can’t stop staring at them.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m going to have breakfast,” he says and stands up. Bane is still looking at him. He wonders vaguely for how long Bane has been wearing the mask. Maybe that’s the kind of thing you learn when half of your face is covered – to speak with your eyes. “I need coffee,” he tells Bane and pulls his shoulders back. He also needs to put some clothes on. The floor is cold against his bare feet and it’s kind of weird that he’s wearing only boxers while Bane is watching him. “We’ll talk later.”<br/>
<br/>
He goes to the kitchen. There he makes coffee and eats what he can find, and then he starts wondering why the hell he told Bane they would talk. He’s not going to talk with Bane. He’s going to figure this out on his own.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
**<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
He ties Bane’s wrists and ankles as tightly as he can, leaving barely enough room that the ties won’t cut blood circulation. Then he handcuffs Bane to the heater again. Bane is looking at him like he thinks it’s funny but he’s also a little frustrated at John. John doesn’t care. He leaves the blankets on Bane so that when he comes back, Bane’s dick isn’t the first he’s going to see. He’s kind of surprised that Bane even has a dick, even though he’s not sure why. Maybe he thought Bane wasn’t a human.<br/>
<br/>
He locks the door carefully, although obviously the dangerous thing is inside the flat. The lock isn’t going to do much good. When he walks down the stairs to the street, he’s wondering if Bane’s going to wait him at the door when he comes back. He touches the gun in his pocket and walks to the drugstore two blocks down the street. It's almost empty. He buys as much food in as little time as possible and then goes back.<br/>
<br/>
When he unlocks and opens the front door, he expects Bane to be there, to grab his throat and strangle him, or take his head in between those huge hands and snap his neck. But Bane isn’t there. He locks the door behind him, walks into the flat and then stops to look at Bane, who’s folded himself in two on the floor. His skin is glistening with sweat.<br/>
<br/>
“Is it too hot?” John asks, putting the grocery bags to the floor, ready to take off the blankets. Bane wasn’t sweating like that when he left.<br/>
<br/>
“No,” Bane says, his voice sharp even through the mask.<br/>
<br/>
John stops. Then he bites his lip and leans forward to touch Bane’s forehead. Bane flinches.<br/>
<br/>
“You’ve got fever,” John says and steps back. “How about the pain? Is it getting worse?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yes,” Bane says. He’s shivering. “Shoot me.”<br/>
<br/>
“No, I don’t think so,” John says, picks up the bags and takes them to the kitchen. He takes a chocolate bar and goes back to Bane. “Can you eat?”<br/>
<br/>
Bane glares at him.<br/>
<br/>
“What do you eat?” he asks. “You’ve got to eat something. Porridge? Something liquid? I should probably give you something. I just don’t know what…” He looks at the chocolate bar in his hand. He was probably going to eat it himself, but Bane hasn’t eaten anything in at least two days. He kneels down on the floor in front of Bane again and reaches to touch Bane’s mask.<br/>
<br/>
Bane flinches away from him and hits the back of his head against the heater.<br/>
<br/>
“Don’t do that,” John says but draws his hand back. “You need to tell me what you eat. Otherwise I’m going to take the mask off and make you eat this chocolate bar.”<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t –“ Bane says and then takes a deep breath. “Liquid. Protein.”<br/>
<br/>
“You haven’t been drinking anything in two days, either,” John says, and suddenly he feels queasy. No wonder Bane’s getting worse. John hasn’t given him a chance to drink in two days. He must be half-dead from dehydration alone. “Wait here,” John says and stands up.<br/>
<br/>
He fills a glass with water in the kitchen. Then he goes back to Bane, whose eyes flicker from the glass in his hands back to his eyes.<br/>
<br/>
“You’re going to drink a little,” he says and sits down on the floor in front of Bane’s face.<br/>
<br/>
“A straw,” Bane says.<br/>
<br/>
John blinks. “What?”<br/>
<br/>
Bane shifts on the floor. He looks like he’s having difficulties staying conscious. “A straw. I need a…”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh,” John says. <em>Shit.</em> “Of course. Just wait a second.” He goes back to the kitchen and looks everywhere before he finds a packet of plastic straws. They’re pink with white stripes. He takes the packet back to Bane. “I could just take your mask off.”<br/>
<br/>
“No,” Bane says. But he lets John help him sit up against the wall and hold the glass of water, and when John sticks the straw carefully through his mask, Bane waits until he gets it right. And then Bane drinks, and John stays still, holding the glass. This is madness, but he’s not going to think about it.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m going to give you more later,” he says when Bane’s finished.<br/>
<br/>
Bane doesn’t answer, only collapses back onto the floor and closes his eyes.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
**<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
There’re so many things he wants to ask Bane. He wants to know where Bane came from, what happened to his face, what’s his connection with Miranda Tate, did he ever know Bruce personally, where he got all his strength. John needs him to explain. On the television it seems that the city’s trying to get back to normal. People are moving on with their lives or at least trying to. Everyone’s relieved or hopeful or still scared or grieving for someone. But not John. Everyone’s got plans, and John’s got nothing.<br/>
<br/>
Gordon calls him again. He tells Gordon that everything’s right and he’s in fact seeing some friends tonight, and no, he’s not alone, Gordon doesn’t need to come over to keep him company. Then he tells Gordon again that yes, he threw his badge in the river. He’s not a cop anymore and he’s not going to be. It’s hard to explain why but he also feels he can’t go back, and he has a feeling that Gordon can hear it his voice. At least Gordon doesn’t argue about it.<br/>
<br/>
After the phone call, John tries to make Bane drink a little more water. Bane’s fever has gone down but his bandages are soaked red again. John makes him sit upright, changes the bandages and cleans the mess of flesh and skin, and then gets a new pink-and-white straw and helps Bane drink. Bane’s looking at him with something odd in his eyes, like he thinks John is funny and that’s why he’s doing what John tells him to. But that’s not it at all. John’s not funny. He never was a funny guy. And the reason why Bane does what he’s been told is that he’s going to die otherwise. John’s the only thing keeping him alive.<br/>
<br/>
He tries to make Bane give him instructions about the food he can eat. But Bane refuses to talk to him. The man looks impossibly tired, so John lets him lie down on the floor and close his eyes for a moment. Meanwhile, he goes to the living room to watch the news again. He just wishes Bane can get some sleep. There doesn’t seem to be infection, at least not yet, which is a tiny wonder. But otherwise he hasn’t gotten any better in these two days.<br/>
<br/>
The news begin and end. John changes the channel. There’s a rerun of a sitcom show he remembers vaguely from years back. He watches it for a while and then closes the television. Outside, the seagulls are shrieking. Bane is still and quiet, so hopefully he’s asleep. John watches him for a moment and then goes to the kitchen to make himself food.<br/>
<br/>
He's just helped Bane to the bathroom and back once again, when there’re steps on the hallway outside his flat. He freezes. Bane doesn’t look like he hears them, but John does, and the steps are slowing down, as if whoever is there is looking for his flat. He looks around, but there’s nowhere to hide Bane. Bane is too big to fit into John’s closet, far too big to be pushed under John’s bed, and John couldn’t move him so quickly anyway. The steps are almost at the door. John reaches for his gun, but he’s left it on the coffee table. And maybe it’s Gordon. It might be Gordon. And even if it isn’t, John’s not going to shoot anyone.<br/>
<br/>
He holds his breath. They’re going to arrest him, and probably put him in jail. He’s been hiding Bane for two days. There’s no way for him to explain this. There’s no -<br/>
<br/>
The steps walk past his door and down the hallway.<br/>
<br/>
He closes his eyes and breathes in. When he opens his eyes again, Bane’s watching him.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
**<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
He changes the sheets on his bed and tries to empty the room from everything Bane could use as a weapon. When he’s about to drag the side table away, he stops. Bane could kill him with his bare hands. If he’s too weak to do that, he’s probably too weak to lift the side table and hit John in the head with it. And taking a coat hanger and sticking it into John’s eye really doesn’t seem like Bane’s style. John puts the coat hangers back and then goes to tell Bane that he’s going to move Bane to his bedroom.<br/>
<br/>
This time, he knows what to expect when he helps Bane to stand up and lean against him. Bane’s weight is overwhelming but he’s probably trying not to crush John, because he doesn’t. They get to the bedroom with tiny steps, and there, John makes Bane lie down on the floor, pulls a duvet from the bed and covers him with it. Bane doesn’t say anything about the bed which is right there. John handcuffs him to one of the bed legs and squeezes the pillow under his head. He’s breathing heavily, but at least he’s not hot to touch anymore. Tomorrow, John’s going to make him eat, and maybe that’s going to help.<br/>
<br/>
John closes the bedroom door behind him and goes to the sofa in the living room. It’s more comfortable than he thought, or maybe he’s more tired. He falls asleep almost immediately and only wakes up when the sun is shining onto his face.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
**<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
“How does the mask work?”<br/>
<br/>
Bane’s looking at him as if he thinks John is crazy but doesn’t care much. “Why?”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m just curious,” John says, trying to fix the bandages.<br/>
<br/>
Bane sighs. John can’t tell if that’s from the pain or boredom. “It helps with the pain.”<br/>
<br/>
“The pain?”<br/>
<br/>
“From an old injury,” Bane says and then stays quiet for a moment. “And how they tried to fix it.”<br/>
<br/>
“So, the mask feeds you with painkillers or something?”<br/>
<br/>
Bane breathes out. “Anesthetic gas.”<br/>
<br/>
“Is that why you’re so strong?”<br/>
<br/>
Bane doesn’t answer. John stops poking at the injuries on his chest and looks him in the eyes.<br/>
<br/>
“What?”<br/>
<br/>
“You,” Bane says, “are mad.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, sure,” John says and finishes with the bandage. Bane lets him do it. They’re sitting on the floor in the bathroom. Bane’s huge thighs are splayed and John’s kneeling in between them. “Do you want to take a shower?” John asks.<br/>
<br/>
Bane looks at him.<br/>
<br/>
“Not that you stink,” he says. “But you stink.”<br/>
<br/>
“I can’t stand.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’ll help,” he says and then thinks about it. “I’ll get you a chair. You can sit.”<br/>
<br/>
Bane blinks. This morning, he drank strawberry yoghurt with a straw when John asked him to. “You’re going to get executed.”<br/>
<br/>
John looks at him and then draws his eyes away. “No, I’m not.”<br/>
<br/>
“These people,” Bane says, the metallic sound of his voice echoing in the bathroom, “are going to turn against you the moment they…” He pauses to breathe. “…hear about this.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m not going to get executed,” John says and sits back on his heels. “It doesn’t work like that.”<br/>
<br/>
“Are you sure?” Bane asks, only it doesn’t sound much like a question.<br/>
<br/>
John’s not sure about anything. The city he sees in the news feels foreign, just like the face he sees in the mirror.<br/>
<br/>
“If you keep doing this,” Bane says slowly, “I’m not going to die.”<br/>
<br/>
John keeps his face from showing anything. Or tries to. Judging by the way Bane looks at him, he’s failing.<br/>
<br/>
“The mask helps,” Bane says. “So, if you want me to die, you should probably take it off.”<br/>
<br/>
John blinks. “You don’t want that.”<br/>
<br/>
“Of course I don’t.”<br/>
<br/>
“But you don’t care about the dying. You only care about the mask.”<br/>
<br/>
“It makes the pain bearable. Keeps me sane.”<br/>
<br/>
John bites his lip.<br/>
<br/>
“You don’t think I’m sane,” Bane says. “Good. Then we’re even.”<br/>
<br/>
“I think,” John says, “that you don’t want me to see your face. That’s why you want to keep it on.”<br/>
<br/>
Bane stares at him for a few seconds and then suddenly leans forward. John falls back and hits his shoulder on the doorframe. He crawls back from the bathroom, reaching for his gun, but it’s nowhere to be found, of course, because it’s on the kitchen table where he left it in the morning while he was making coffee. Maybe he’s got a death wish. If Bane’s going to kill him now, he doesn’t have anyone but himself to blame for it. He’s been practically begging for it, hasn’t he?<br/>
<br/>
He tries to calm down his breathing. Bane’s sitting on the bathroom floor, unmoving, staring at him through the open door. He stares back for a few seconds, and the he stands up. Everything in him is trembling.<br/>
<br/>
“Alright,” he says. “You don’t want a shower. I should take you back to the bedroom and –“<br/>
<br/>
“No,” Bane cuts in. “I want a shower.”<br/>
<br/>
John frowns. “What?”<br/>
<br/>
“If you can get me a chair,” Bane says and leans back. “Please.”<br/>
<br/>
John stares at him for a moment and then goes to get that chair.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
**<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
He leaves Bane handcuffed to his bed leg and goes to the drug store again. He needs something that Bane can drink with a straw, something that’s got protein in it. In the store, he inspects all the different protein powders and then buys one that’s supposed to taste like peanut butter. He hopes Bane likes peanut butter, and then he starts thinking that maybe Bane has never tried that. He buys a jar of peanut butter for himself, because at that point he’s been thinking about the taste enough that he can’t shake the yearning. Then he goes back. The weather’s warm and he takes his coat off on the way.<br/>
<br/>
He finds Bane in his bedroom, lying on the floor under the blankets. John should find something for him to wear, but all his own clothes are far too small. And Bane doesn’t complain. He hasn’t said anything about being naked, either, like it’s perfectly normal that John’s keeping him here with nothing to cover himself with, except for the blankets, of course.<br/>
<br/>
“Hi,” John says and leaves the bedroom door open as he goes to the kitchen.<br/>
<br/>
“Hi,” Bane says.<br/>
<br/>
“Have you ever tried peanut butter?” John asks but can’t make sense of Bane’s answer. He has to go back to the bedroom, so he hears what Bane’s telling him.<br/>
<br/>
Bane hasn’t tasted peanut butter. John tells him it’s good. He tells John that John’s an idiot. That one is on him, because John knew that already. He’s perfectly aware he’s an idiot. He finishes making the protein shake for Bane and then goes back and helps Bane drink it.<br/>
<br/>
Gordon calls him, when he’s watching the news. He turns the volume down and glances at Bane, who’s at the bedroom doorway, John’s pillow pushed in between his head and the doorstep. John tells Gordon that everything’s alright and that he doesn’t want to come over to Gordon’s house for a tiny gathering of friends on Saturday, and Bane stares at him like he’s speaking a foreign language.<br/>
<br/>
Late in the evening, he helps Bane to the bathroom and closes the door until he can hear Bane flush the toilet. Then he gets back in. They sit down on the floor. He unwraps Bane’s bandages and cleans the wounds with the disinfectant. There’s not much skin left intact on Bane’s chest, so John rests his other hand on Bane’s thigh for support. Bane’s skin is warm against his touch, warmer than he would have expected. Maybe that’s because of the gas. Maybe that’s some kind of a side effect to all Bane’s strength. He wants to ask how Bane got his strength, if it came to him gradually or at once when he got the mask on for the first time, and if it was difficult to learn how to control it. He bites his lip and says nothing. Bane’s thigh is trembling slightly under his touch. It must be from the pain, because the look in Bane’s eyes is nonchalant.<br/>
<br/>
He asks Bane about the toothbrush again. Bane says he doesn’t need it. John asks him if he ever takes the mask off when he’s alone, and he says <em>‘never’</em>, but he says it in a tone that suggests he’s lying. Or maybe it’s not the tone, maybe it’s his eyes. He’s got expressive eyes. John looks into them for a while after he’s helped Bane get back to the bedroom. It’s easy to forget everything else about Bane while looking into his eyes.<br/>
<br/>
When Bane’s lying on the floor, John gets the handcuffs and grabs Bane’s wrist. There, he stops.<br/>
<br/>
“What?” Bane asks. John can easily feel the pulse under his skin.<br/>
<br/>
“Nothing,” John says. “You should sleep in the bed.”<br/>
<br/>
Bane breathes out.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m going to put you in my bed,” John says. “I’m sleeping on the sofa anyway.”<br/>
<br/>
“You’re crazy,” Bane says, but he doesn’t look surprised now.<br/>
<br/>
“I need you to get on the bed yourself,” John says, “because I’m not going to lift you.” He watches as Bane climbs to the bed and stretches on the mattress like he’s not exactly sure how to act. John gives him the pillow and the duvet from the floor and handcuffs his left ankle to the bed.<br/>
<br/>
 “Robin,” Bane says, when John’s about to leave the room.<br/>
<br/>
He turns back to Bane. “Yeah?”<br/>
<br/>
“You should’ve shot me,” Bane says. “In the city hall.”<br/>
<br/>
“I know,” John says and switches off the light. “Good night.”<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
**<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
He should have shot Bane.<br/>
<br/>
He should have shot Bane.<br/>
<br/>
He should have shot Bane, and he didn’t.<br/>
<br/>
He stares at the ceiling and thinks about it. He can’t hear anything from the bedroom. Maybe Bane’s asleep. Maybe he could make a deal with Bane – to let Bane go and ask that if the man gets caught, he says nothing about John. Of course, there wouldn’t be any reason for him to trust Bane.<br/>
<br/>
Or he could shoot Bane in the head, before Bane’s going to recover enough to kill him. He could shoot Bane and saw the body into pieces and put them in black plastic bags and throw into the river where his badge already is.<br/>
<br/>
He's feeling a little nauseous, so he gets out of the sofa, goes to the bathroom and washes his face with cold water two times. That helps a little. It also helps that he stops thinking about how to murder Bane.<br/>
<br/>
The logical thing, the <em>right </em>thing probably, would be to call Gordon and tell everything. Maybe Gordon could even keep him out of the prison. He could tell Gordon that he had been in a shock and hadn’t known what he was doing, and Gordon would at least try to believe.<br/>
<br/>
He goes back to the sofa and lies down. This is a dead-end. Nothing’s going to fix this. He thought the bomb in the city was a dead-end, and now when it turned out not to be, he’s invented another dead-end, personally for himself. If he ever gets through this, he’s going to go to therapy.<br/>
<br/>
He falls asleep at some point and wakes up when it’s still too early, but he can’t sleep. He goes to the bedroom and opens the door without knocking. Bane turns to look at him. The man’s in John’s bed, tucked under the duvet, not looking extremely uncomfortable. He’s also naked. John knows that because Bane’s been naked the whole time, ever since John took off his trousers the first morning. He doesn’t seem to care that John’s seen his dick and everything else many times. Maybe he doesn’t think about things like that. Like, decency. That would make sense.<br/>
<br/>
“Good morning,” John says.<br/>
<br/>
“Good morning,” Bane says. “It’s not morning yet. Can’t you sleep?”<br/>
<br/>
“How’re you feeling?”<br/>
<br/>
“Still not dead.”<br/>
<br/>
“Great,” John says and hovers in the doorway. “I’m going to go back to the sofa. It’s too early to wake up.”<br/>
<br/>
“Alright,” Bane says.<br/>
<br/>
John closes the door.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
**<br/>
<br/>
He drifts away on the sofa, and when he wakes up again, it’s because Bane’s calling his name. He climbs off the sofa and rushes to open the bedroom door. Bane’s pushed the duvet to the floor and is trying to sit, but the handcuffs won’t give him much space to do that.<br/>
<br/>
“What’s wrong?” John asks.<br/>
<br/>
“Robin,” Bane says, fixing his eyes onto John. His eyes go down on John’s body and then back up again, finally reaching his eyes. John shifts his weight from one foot to another. He’s wearing nothing but boxers and he’s got a bit of a morning wood, but Bane’s naked. It should be him staring at Bane with the calculating look in his eyes.<br/>
<br/>
He clears his throat. At least Bane seems to be alright. Not unconscious, not dead, not soaking blood through the bandages John’s wrapped around his chest.<br/>
<br/>
“I need to get to the bathroom,” Bane says. He looks a little unhappy to have to say it.<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, of course,” John says and goes to him, undoes the handcuffs and settles against his side as he gets out of the bed. He smells considerably better after the shower yesterday. Like a human. A man. Not that John’s been pressed this close to naked men very often in his life.<br/>
<br/>
He helps Bane to the bathroom and waits outside the closed door. When Bane opens the door, John takes his arm and drapes it over his shoulder. It’s a shame that there’s no one around to take a picture about this. He must look tiny at Bane’s side. He doesn’t exactly like that, not normally – when he was a kid, he was picked on from being small often enough. He’s tried to gain some muscle over the years, but there’s only so much you can do. He’s still small, but Bane’s huge by all standards. Any man would look tiny compared to Bane. That’s kind of comforting.<br/>
<br/>
“Wait,” Bane says, when John’s trying to walk them to the bedroom again.<br/>
<br/>
He stops. “What? Are you alright?”<br/>
<br/>
“I need to…” Bane takes a deep breath. John can feel it against his side. “I can’t lie down.”<br/>
<br/>
“What? You can’t –“<br/>
<br/>
“Too much,” Bane says, leaning onto him. “It’s too much. Too many days.”<br/>
<br/>
“But what –“ John starts and then glances at the sofa in the living room. “Do you think you could sit?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yes,” Bane says. He seems determined, or maybe just stubborn.<br/>
<br/>
“Great,” John says. He’s going to make Bane sit on the sofa. That’s going to make it easier for Bane to watch the news, too. He supposes Bane might be interested in that.<br/>
<br/>
He helps Bane to the sofa and then hovers there for a moment, while Bane settles himself against the cushions in a posture that seems like he’s in a considerable amount of pain and has decided to ignore it. He’s too big for John’s sofa anyway. John puts a pillow behind his neck for him to rest his head against, but that doesn’t help much. They would need a dozen pillows.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m going to make myself coffee,” John says, when he’s almost sure Bane’s not going to fall off the sofa. “You want some?”<br/>
<br/>
“Coffee?” Bane asks. There’s a look in his eyes that John knows well.<br/>
<br/>
“Okay, you don’t drink coffee,” John says and retreats to the kitchen. “I just thought I’d ask.”<br/>
<br/>
After he has made himself a cup of coffee and Bane a peanut butter protein shake, he feels actually pretty good. He can squeeze himself into the spot on the other end of the sofa just fine. The sun isn’t shining today, which is a bonus. He closes the curtains anyway, just in case someone might see Bane sitting on his sofa and recognize him. Bane’s got a blanket covering him from the waist down and he doesn’t need much help with the protein shake, so John can drink his coffee and help Bane at the same time. There’s nothing new in the news, nothing about Bane’s disappearance, and nothing about Miranda. After the news, John skips through channels. Bane seems confused about the reality TV program with young people jumping into pools half-naked and obviously intoxicated, so John leaves that on.<br/>
<br/>
They spend the day like that. When John gets hungry, he warms up a microwave meal for himself and prepares another portion of the same protein shake for Bane. Bane doesn’t seem to expect variety. There’s an old superhero movie on the television, so they watch that, only John falls asleep before the ending. He wakes up to his phone ringing and Bane looking at him.<br/>
<br/>
It's Gordon again. He tells Gordon that he’s still fine. Bane shifts on the cushions next to him and his leg brushes against Bane’s. It’s good that he’s wearing sweatpants now, because otherwise this might be a little weird. But Bane is obviously trying to push himself into John’s personal space on the sofa, so John elbows him on the side. Lightly, of course, because Bane is still recovering from the injuries. And it’s kind of understandable that Bane’s expecting to take more space on the sofa than John, since his shoulders are, like, twice as broad as John’s. Even his thighs are huge. The blanket is slipping off from his lap, and John blinks and tries to remember what Gordon asked him. Oh, yeah. About what he’s been doing today.<br/>
<br/>
At the end of the call, Gordon says that there’s still not news about Bane. They haven’t found him and it’s getting more and more difficult to keep his disappearance from the media. Gordon expects it to be in the news tomorrow. He just hopes it doesn’t cause a new wave of panic and terror in the city.<br/>
<br/>
“He should be half-dead at this point,” Gordon says, his voice low and frustrated. “Or maybe he’s crawled to the sewers to die and is dead already and we’ll never find the body. Which would be perfectly fine with me, of course, only we need to be sure he’s dead. We need the people to see that this is finally over.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah,” John says, resting his hand on Bane’s knee. “Yeah, you’re right.”<br/>
<br/>
Gordon sighs. “I just hope we find him soon. Anyway, take easy and get some rest, John. I’ll call you again tomorrow.”<br/>
<br/>
John puts the phone away and turns up the volume on the television.<br/>
<br/>
“What’re you going to do with me?” Bane asks. He seems only vaguely interested.<br/>
<br/>
John blinks at the television. It’s reality TV again, people going on blind dates. They’re trying to find love. It’s sweet and kind of heart-breaking. He’s never had much luck in that area. Once or twice he’s wondered if it’s because he rarely could trust anyone when he was a kid. Maybe there’s something wrong with his capabilities of getting attached to people.<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t know,” he says.<br/>
<br/>
“I thought,” Bane says slowly, as if he’s weighting the words, “that you took me here to torture me.”<br/>
<br/>
“I <em>did</em>,” John says, his voice coming out tense and defensive.<br/>
<br/>
“It made sense.” Bane pauses. “You were in a shock. You didn’t know what to do. You were blaming me, and you happened to find me, and couldn’t let me go. You wanted to keep me alive and torture me and hoped it would help you make sense of your world again.”<br/>
<br/>
“Shut up,” John says, but he’s suddenly very tired. He leans against Bane’s shoulder and then wonders if that was a good idea, but Bane doesn’t seem to be in much pain at the moment.<br/>
<br/>
“You could have done it,” Bane says. “Once you got me here, you could have done it easily. You could have kept me alive and suffering. For as long as you wanted.” He breathes out. “You could have taken away from my mask and then watched as the injuries others made a long time ago would torture me.” He glances at John. “Maybe you could still do it. If you handcuffed and tied me first.”<br/>
<br/>
John rubs his chin. “Stop that.”<br/>
<br/>
“But you’d have to do a good job tying me up,” Bane says. “Because I’m getting better.”<br/>
<br/>
“I know,” John says and takes a deep breath. “I’m not going to torture you.”<br/>
<br/>
“You fixed me well. I’m going to recover.”<br/>
<br/>
“Well, I’ve taken classes in first-aid.”<br/>
<br/>
“I could probably kill you now,” Bane says. “It would take some effort, but I would get it done. Give me a few days, and handcuffs and ties aren’t going to stop me anymore.”<br/>
<br/>
John leans back on the sofa and changes the channel. Blind dates are a stupid concept anyway. And there’re other things in life than finding love. <em>He </em>was almost happy with his life before the last three months. He didn’t have love, but he was almost happy. That feels like a lifetime ago, though.<br/>
<br/>
“John Blake,” Bane says, watching him. “Detective John Blake.”<br/>
<br/>
He glances at Bane.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m not stupid,” Bane says. “I’ve heard of you.”<br/>
<br/>
“Robin is my real name.”<br/>
<br/>
Maybe Bane looks delighted, or maybe John’s seeing things. “Is it,” Bane says.<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah,” John says and tilts his head back until he can rest his neck against the back of the sofa. “We need to get you some clothes. Nothing I have is going to fit you. I guess I should go shopping.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m not cold,” Bane says. “John?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah?”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m not going to allow you to kill me anymore,” Bane says. “Or handcuff me. I’m not exactly eager to hurt you, but I will not tolerate any of that.”<br/>
<br/>
John closes his eyes. Fuck, he’s tired. It must be because he’s been watching television all day. “Alright.”<br/>
<br/>
“Good,” Bane says and nods at the television. “This is madness.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah,” John says. It is. It’s young people jumping naked into pools again.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
**<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
John tries to exercise in the living room. He does squats and push-ups until he’s so hot he’s got to get rid of his clothes. It feels good to do something physical for the first time in days. Only the way Bane’s looking at him from the sofa is a little distracting. At least he’s still got his boxers on. He does another set of push-ups and ignores the look in Bane’s eyes. It’s not that he’s weak, it’s just that Bane’s expectations are incredibly high because he personally is made of muscle.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m in a good shape,” he tells Bane, when he’s getting tired of both exercising and having Bane look at him like it’s sweet that he tries so hard. “I know I don’t look like you but I’m in a good shape.”<br/>
<br/>
“I didn’t say anything,” Bane says, watching him.<br/>
<br/>
“You’re watching me,” he points out to Bane.<br/>
<br/>
“Yes,” Bane says. “Nothing else here to watch.”<br/>
<br/>
“There’s the television.”<br/>
<br/>
Bane tilts his head to the side and keeps watching him.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m going to take a shower,” he tells Bane, walks to the bathroom and locks the door. He’s still panting when he gets to the shower cubicle. The water feels incredibly good on his skin. He’s just managed to get shampoo in his hair, when he realizes he left Bane alone in his flat. No handcuffs, no ties, nothing to keep Bane from leaving, if the man thinks he can walk without John supporting him. Well, that was stupid.<br/>
<br/>
Then again, Bane told John he would kill John if John tried to tie him up again.<br/>
<br/>
He gets on with his shower. The exercise was a great idea. He feels more alive now, more like himself. Almost like things are getting back to normal, except for the fact that he has Bane naked in his living room. He should really get Bane something to wear. Boxers, at least. Maybe a shirt. It’s getting weird. Once or twice, he’s found himself taking glances at Bane’s ass. He shouldn’t be surprised that it’s fit as hell, because everything in Bane is fit as hell in a very terrifying way. He wonders if Bane even realizes what he looks like.<br/>
<br/>
The water is still running. John listens to the sounds from the living room but there’s nothing except the television. Bane must have found the remote control. It’s actually a little surprising that he knows how to use it. He doesn’t exactly look like a guy who’s spent a lot of time watching television. John bites his lip and then lets the tip of his thumb brush against his dick. Yeah, he can’t imagine Bane watching television. Maybe Bane’s going to get addicted now. John could show him his favorite movies. He doesn’t have many, but he bets Bane hasn’t seen any of them. They could sit on the sofa side by side and watch movies. They could…<br/>
<br/>
He wraps his fingers around his dick and takes a few deep breaths. Bane’s not going to hear him. And he’s got every right to do what he wants with his own dick. He’s in his own flat, in his own bathroom, and he can’t remember when the last time was that he jerked off. It must have been a while. Certainly it was before he dragged Bane to his flat. He still can’t believe that he managed to do that. Bane is <em>huge.</em> Bane could lift John up with one arm. Bane could break John in so many ways without even having to try. Well, maybe not right now, because Bane’s still injured, but John’s pretty sure he couldn’t take Bane even now if they wrestled. Bane would hold him against the floor, the side of his face pressed against the carpet. His carpet. The carpet in his living room. Bane would keep his arm on John’s back and John wouldn’t have any chance to wriggle free. Everything he could hear would be his own heartbeat and the metallic sound of Bane breathing heavily, and Bane would push his bare knee in between John’s legs on the floor and -<br/>
<br/>
He tries to bite his lip as he comes into his hand but it’s too late. Oh, bloody <em>hell.</em> Bane probably heard that. He sits down onto the floor and takes deep breaths, and the water falls onto his feet and legs. This is probably not good. He’s a police officer, no, a detective. He shouldn’t be thinking about a criminal he’s keeping as a captive while he’s jerking off. That’s unethical. Before, he would’ve never done that. What the hell is wrong with him?<br/>
<br/>
Oh, right. He’s not a cop anymore. He’s nothing. He’s just John Blake, or worse, just Robin. He’s sitting in his own bathroom, trying to wash cum from his hands and thighs without getting up, because he can’t do that yet. His legs feel like jelly.<br/>
<br/>
When he finally gets back to the living room, Bane is sitting exactly where John left him. He doesn’t have the blanket on now. John refuses to look at his dick. Actually, it feels a bit inappropriate to look at any of his body parts right now.<br/>
<br/>
“Had fun?” Bane asks.<br/>
<br/>
“Yes,” John says and goes to find himself something to wear.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
**<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
He sleeps on the sofa again, while Bane sleeps in his bed. He’s sure the sofa was more comfortable last night. Now he tosses from one side to another and it doesn’t help. Bane wouldn’t have jerked off with John in the flat. Maybe Bane doesn’t jerk off, ever. Maybe he’s so in control of his body that he doesn’t need to. And he doesn’t seem like a guy who would get distracted by thinking about sex. If he realized what John was doing in the bathroom today, he probably thought it was funny. Like John trying to exercise. Maybe everything John does seems funny to him. And that’s just unfair because John does not get distracted by thinking about sex. He’s actually very good at concentrating. It was just that he was in the shower alone and already hard for some reason and it had been a while and it was a perfect opportunity. It’s kind of difficult to find the time for masturbation when you’re keeping a terrorist at your home.<br/>
<br/>
He falls asleep eventually and wakes up a couple of times during the night, once because Bane flushes the toilet. He rolls onto his side and watches as Bane walks back to his bedroom with swaying steps. He’s using the walls to support him and looks like he’s in pain, but he can walk. In a few days, he won’t need John anymore.<br/>
<br/>
In the morning, John feels like he’s barely slept. He makes himself coffee and then goes to wake Bane up, but Bane’s already awake, lying in John’s bed and staring at him. Bane looks comfortable. John asks him if he’s in pain and he says no. It’s obviously a lie, but he probably means that the pain’s getting bearable. John makes him a strawberry protein milk shake and then offers to help him to the bathroom. Bane lets John settle against his side and support him. It’s kind of nice. It makes John feel like he’s not completely useless.<br/>
<br/>
After breakfast, he goes to the supermarket to buy food and some clothes for Bane. He didn’t remember to ask what Bane’s size is, so he just takes the biggest there is. Hopefully that’s going to work. Buying food is much easier. Bane didn’t complain about the peanut butter taste in his protein shake, so John buys more of that sort.<br/>
<br/>
When John comes home, he finds Bane in the living room, surfing through the television channels. There’s something unsettling about the way Bane looks at him while he tosses boxers and a shirt at the man. They hit Bane in the chest and fall onto his lap, and Bane breathes out and takes them.<br/>
<br/>
“You need me to wear clothes?”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m sure they aren’t what you’re used to,” John says. “I got them from the supermarket.”<br/>
<br/>
Bane takes a pair of boxers and inspects them. “They’re fine.”<br/>
<br/>
“I bought the biggest size there was.”<br/>
<br/>
“Clever,” Bane says. Surely he’s mocking John.<br/>
<br/>
“Just try them.”<br/>
<br/>
“Now?”<br/>
<br/>
“Well,” John says, “why not?”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m not going to put on a shirt,” Bane says and unfolds the t-shirt John bought him. “<em>California sunshine forever?</em>”<br/>
<br/>
“That’s just the kind of stuff they sell in the supermarkets,” John says. “Have you ever been?”<br/>
<br/>
“In a supermarket?” Bane tosses the shirt back at John and flinches.<br/>
<br/>
“How’re you feeling?” John asks immediately. “Are you in pain?”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m always in pain,” Bane says, glaring at him. “I’m not going to put on a t-shirt. I’ve already got bandages.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, alright,” John says. It kind of makes sense. This way, he’s going to notice if Bane’s wounds start bleeding again. “Just boxers, then.”<br/>
<br/>
Bane stares at the boxers for a few seconds and then breathes out. “I’m going to need you to help me.”<br/>
<br/>
So, John helps him. He lets Bane drape his arm over his shoulders and lean against him, only Bane has his hand pressed against the wall, so that’s probably helping as well. Together they get the boxers tugged up Bane’s thighs. He has more scars than John can count. John tries not to touch them. Bane is breathing harder now, which makes John wonder what the point was in making him wear clothes. But John was trying to do the nice thing.<br/>
<br/>
He helps Bane to sit back down on the couch. Bane tugs at the waistband of his boxers. They’re black and barely big enough.<br/>
<br/>
“I didn’t think you were shy,” Bane says, closing his eyes. “You didn’t seem shy before.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m not shy.”<br/>
<br/>
“Really,” Bane says.<br/>
<br/>
John opens his mouth and then decides to let this one go.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
**<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
He goes on a run that evening. Just a few miles. Just to get some fresh air. He’s not accustomed to living with someone, so it’s quite a lot to have Bane hanging around all the time. But he supposes that’s going to end soon. Bane’s going to get back on his feet and leave. There’s nothing John can do to stop him. It’s too late. If he wanted to tell someone – maybe Gordon – that he’s got Bane in his flat, he should do it when he’s out of the flat. Otherwise Bane’s just going to kill him and leave.<br/>
<br/>
He glances at the telephone box as he runs past it. There’s a good chance that he’s going to get executed if someone finds out about that he’s been hiding Bane. That’s not how things should work, but he’s not sure how things work anymore. And he doesn’t particularly want to die. He hastens his pace and runs around another block, and to the river, where the wind hits him in the face. On the way back, he buys a takeout pizza. He eats it in the living room and when he licks his fingers, there’s something odd about the way Bane looks at him.<br/>
<br/>
Gordon calls him. He picks up the phone and doesn’t even have time to tell Gordon he’s fine, when Gordon tells him that there’s going to be something about Bane in the news. Five minutes later, John sits on the sofa with Bane and turns the volume on, as the reporter tells them that Bane was seriously injured in the fight with Batman but hasn’t been seen ever since. The police strongly suspects that someone is helping Bane. And then they interview Gordon, who looks nervous, but maybe that’s more difficult to notice for someone who doesn’t know him like John. Gordon says that there’s no reason to panic and that there’s a good chance that Bane’s already dead and they are looking for a body. At John’s side, Bane’s drinking strawberry yoghurt through a straw.<br/>
<br/>
<em>“Of course it’s possible,” </em>Gordon says on the television, “<em>that someone’s helping him. We can’t rule that out. But there’s no reason to panic.”</em><br/>
<br/>
Bane finishes the strawberry yoghurt and puts it on the coffee table. His movements are slow and careful but he doesn’t seem to be in much pain. There’s a clip about him on the television: he’s standing in front of the prison, giving his speech. John’s seen that many times. Bane looks huge and terrifying and not like a human.<br/>
<br/>
“I’ve got to piss,” Bane says.<br/>
<br/>
“Now?” John asks. The clip is still on. Bane is standing on a car.<br/>
<br/>
“Yes,” Bane says and grabs John’s shoulder as he stands up. John takes him to the bathroom door and then waits until he’s sitting in the toilet before he closes the door. Bane doesn’t lock it. In the news, someone John doesn’t recognize is saying that this changes everything. The danger isn’t over. For as long as Bane is alive, the good citizen of Gotham can’t get the rest from all the horrors they’ve encountered during the last months. Bane simply must be found and killed, so that they all can put this behind them.<br/>
<br/>
“We’re running out of toilet paper,” Bane says when he comes out of the bathroom.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
**<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
John tries to fall asleep on the sofa but can’t. He goes to the bathroom again and again, mainly just to do something else than lie on the sofa and think about how he can’t sleep. When he’s coming from the bathroom for the fourth time, Bane calls him from the bedroom.<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah?” he says, opening the door slightly.<br/>
<br/>
“What’s wrong with you?” Bane asks. “I can’t sleep when you wander around.”<br/>
<br/>
John bites his lip. “Nothing’s wrong with me. Shut up.”<br/>
<br/>
Bane narrows his eyes and then breathes out. “You don’t want to sleep on the sofa.”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s not that,” John says, straightening his back. “I’m just… preoccupied.”<br/>
<br/>
“Just jerk off if you need to.”<br/>
<br/>
John’s face feels warm. <em>Fucking hell.</em> “It’s not that.”<br/>
<br/>
“Then it’s the sofa,” Bane says and rolls onto his side slowly. The bed creaks as if it’s about to break. But it doesn’t. It stays in one piece, and Bane stares at John for a few more seconds before speaking. “Sleep here.”<br/>
<br/>
“What,” John says, but his voice comes out thin.<br/>
<br/>
“Sleep here,” Bane says, eyes on him. It’s hard to make sense of Bane’s expression in the dark. But John’s got the feeling that Bane’s not mocking him now. “I’ll make room.”<br/>
<br/>
“In the bed.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yes.”<br/>
<br/>
“You want me to sleep in the bed,” John says, “with you.”<br/>
<br/>
“You don’t want to sleep on the sofa,” Bane says. “And I’m not going to fit there.”<br/>
<br/>
John takes a deep breath. He really doesn’t want to sleep on the sofa for another night. He could try to tell Bane to sleep on the floor – it’s <em>his </em>bed, after all – but he doesn’t know how Bane would take that. And he’s not sure what would be the point.<br/>
<br/>
“Alright,” he says and goes to get his duvet and pillow from the living room.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
**<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
It's weird, getting into the bed when Bane’s right there. But surely it doesn’t matter either way. He’s keeping Bane in his flat and Bane could kill him if he wanted to but hasn’t yet for some reason. It doesn’t make much of a difference if he sleeps in Bane’s bed or not. Or if Bane sleeps in John’s bed. It’s his bed, after all. He should remember that.<br/>
<br/>
He breathes in as quietly and steadily as he can and tries not to toss around much, because otherwise there’s a real possibility that their legs will touch under the duvets. And that would be weird. Or if he accidentally shifted closer to Bane in his sleep. But he doesn’t think that will happen.<br/>
<br/>
“Robin,” Bane says. He doesn’t seem shocked that John’s there. “Just sleep.”<br/>
<br/>
John falls asleep eventually. He wakes up when Bane climbs off the bed to get to the bathroom and offers to help, but Bane tells him it’s fine. He watches as Bane leans against the walls on the way, and then he falls asleep again before Bane gets back.<br/>
<br/>
In the morning, he wakes up to the sounds of the traffic outside. He doesn’t know what the time is and can’t see the clock from the bed, but he doesn’t want to move either, because he doesn’t know if Bane’s awake. He can’t tell from Bane’s breathing, because it comes through the mask.<br/>
<br/>
“You’re awake,” Bane says, when John’s been doing nothing for some time.<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah,” he says and rolls onto his side, facing Bane. “How’re you feeling?”<br/>
<br/>
“Do you realize,” Bane says, “that you took me here to get your revenge on me, and now you’re worrying about whether I like the pillow?”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m not worrying about the pillow.” John clears his throat. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”<br/>
<br/>
“Nothing’s wrong with you,” Bane says, “it’s this city.” Then he climbs off the bed and walks to the bathroom. He’s standing taller than yesterday and taking less support from the walls. He looks so big he shouldn’t fit through the doorway, but he does.<br/>
<br/>
John rolls onto his back and closes his eyes.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
**<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
There’s no good way to get Bane out of the city. Anyone who sees him will recognize him. John could try to hide the mask with a scarf or something, but Bane’s bulk alone will make people look again. And Bane’s disappearance is on the morning news, and then again in the midday, and in the afternoon. They talk about it on the radio, too. Bane sits still on John’s sofa and looks like he’s not even listening, but John is.<br/>
<br/>
He could try to get Bane to the sewers during the darkest hours of the night. That would probably be their best chance. Even if someone saw Bane going to the sewers and called the cops, there would be a good chance that Bane could lose anyone tracking him. He knows the sewers better than the rest of them.<br/>
<br/>
Or, John could let Bane out of his door and not worry about what happens next. Maybe he should leave the city just in case Bane gets caught and says his name and he gets dragged to this. But it’s difficult to be worried about that. His thigh is pressing against Bane’s, and Bane is warm and alive and much more real than whatever could happen to John if anyone found out. He helped Bane to change the bandages and check the injuries again today. They’re healing well. There’s no infection. The scar is going to be huge and ugly but otherwise, he thinks Bane’s going to be fine. It doesn’t make sense at all, but then again, nothing about Bane really makes sense.<br/>
<br/>
“What’re you going to do?” John asks, when they’re watching the evening news and there’s the same clip on about Bane speaking in front of the prison. He didn’t mean to ask, but now he has, and he’s barely been thinking about anything else the whole day.<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t know,” Bane says, looking at the television. He doesn’t seem worried. He doesn’t seem to care.<br/>
<br/>
“You need to get out of the city.”<br/>
<br/>
Bane glances at him now. “So, you’ve decided to not give me to the cops.”<br/>
<br/>
He looks away. “My life’s going to be over if I do that.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yes,” Bane says slowly, “yes, it is. I’m glad there’s finally a hint of sense inside your skull. Your career was over the second you decided not to shoot me in the head in the city hall.”<br/>
<br/>
“My career was already over,” John says, his voice coming out tight. He’s tired and he doesn’t want to talk about his fucking <em>career.</em> “How soon can you leave?”<br/>
<br/>
“Are you unhappy with me?”<br/>
<br/>
He bites his lip. “God, no. I haven’t had this much company in years.”<br/>
<br/>
“So, that’s why you didn’t kill me. You’re lonely.”<br/>
<br/>
John shakes his head. “I’m not lonely.” It’s a lie. Of course he’s lonely. Everyone is.<br/>
<br/>
“You could’ve picked better company.”<br/>
<br/>
“Well, I was kind of angry at you as well. I wasn’t planning that we’d hang out.”<br/>
<br/>
“We aren’t hanging out.”<br/>
<br/>
“Of course we are.” He pauses. “Were you in love with Miranda Tate?”<br/>
<br/>
“Robin,” Bane says. John could swear he sounds disapproving.<br/>
<br/>
“You followed her here.”<br/>
<br/>
“I didn’t…” Bane glances at him. “There’s no reason to talk about this. She’s gone.”<br/>
<br/>
“You said it was her vision.”<br/>
<br/>
“You asked me if it was. I didn’t tell you anything.”<br/>
<br/>
“You could as well tell me now,” he says. “We’re alone. And I’m not going to tell anyone.”<br/>
<br/>
Bane breathes in and out.<br/>
<br/>
“I think you loved her,” John says. “The look on your face when I told you she’s dead –“<br/>
<br/>
“Of course I loved her.” Bane closes his eyes. “She was everything. Everything that I ever cared about.”<br/>
<br/>
“You’ll find something else,” John says, facing him. “You should get out of Gotham as soon as you can. And then you’re going to find something else to care about. Something to live for.”<br/>
<br/>
Bane digs his fingers into the armrest of the sofa and stands up. John leans back. Bane turns around and looks down at him, clenches his fists and pushes his shoulders back. His right hand is close to John’s face. He would probably only need one hand to strangle John.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m going to go to the bathroom,” he says and walks out of the living room with staggering steps.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
**<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
John does push-ups in the living room. Bane is in the bedroom, doing god knows what, or probably nothing. John’s trying not to think about him, but there’s nothing else to think about. There’s something about Bane’s love for Miranda Tate that just doesn’t feel right. It’s almost like she was the only thing Bane was living for and now that she’s gone, Bane doesn’t have a reason to live. Maybe that’s why he hasn’t tried to kill John. Maybe that’s why he sits on John’s sofa and sleeps in John’s bed – because he doesn’t care anymore. John needs to make him care. He needs to get out of John’s flat and out of the city and to do that, he needs to care.<br/>
<br/>
Bane’s still in the bedroom, when John finishes exercising. He goes to the kitchen and makes himself a glass of Bane’s protein shake. It tastes like peanut butter, which isn’t a surprise. When he gets Bane to leave him, he should probably give Bane a few bags of protein powder to take with him. And strawberry yoghurt. Bane seems to like that. Or maybe <em>like </em>is the wrong word, because John’s not certain if Bane <em>likes </em>anything. Except, of course, Miranda Tate. Which is fucking annoying for some reason. She was a nice woman – or she was a nice woman, <em>before</em> she turned out to be a villain – but there’s nothing in her that should make men want to live and die for her. John wouldn’t. But then again, maybe he just doesn’t get attached to people.<br/>
<br/>
The flat’s going to feel so empty when Bane’s gone.<br/>
<br/>
He tells Bane that he’s going to take a shower. Bane doesn’t answer. There’s no reason to lock the door, so he doesn’t. Bane could break it if he wanted to, and he’s already hurt himself enough.<br/>
<br/>
John steps into the shower cubicle and turns the water on. He rinses his hair and washes his face and is just about to touch his dick, when Bane opens the door.<br/>
<br/>
“Sorry,” Bane says, and the apology seems just about as out of place as him entering the bathroom. He doesn’t even look at John, only grabs the edge of the sink and sways towards the shower cubicle. It's a wonder that the sink doesn’t break down.<br/>
<br/>
John, on the other hand, can’t stop staring at Bane. “What’re you doing?”<br/>
<br/>
“Don’t stop because of me,” Bane says and steps into the shower cubicle. He’s too big. He’s never going to fit, not with John already there. But he arranges himself in the cubicle, facing John, rests his right shoulder against the wall and straightens his back. “You were in the middle of something,” Bane says.<br/>
<br/>
John lifts his chin up to look him in the eyes.<br/>
<br/>
“So, tell me to fuck off,” Bane says.<br/>
<br/>
John bites his lip.<br/>
<br/>
“You’re crazy,” Bane says and leans closer to him. John’s heart is racing up. It’s partly from fear, which makes him feel both worse and better. “John Blake,” Bane says and takes a step towards him, covering all the distance there was. His thigh brushes against John’s dick. “<em>Robin.</em>” Bane pauses. “I was going to kill you. I thought about it. The first few days, I thought about it. I planned it. If I hadn’t been… I would’ve tried to do it.” He breathes out. “And I would’ve succeeded.”<br/>
<br/>
John wants to close his eyes but can’t. He’s barely tall enough to reach Bane’s mask. He wonders what would happen if he tried to take it off. He wonders what would happen if he shoved Bane at the chest, elbowed him where his injuries are at their worst. He wonders what would happen if he rubbed his dick against Bane’s thigh.<br/>
<br/>
“Turn off the water,” Bane says.<br/>
<br/>
John turns off the water. His hands are shaking.<br/>
<br/>
“What do you want?” Bane asks.<br/>
<br/>
“What do you mean,” John says, “what do I want?” He’s playing time, or maybe trying to convince himself that this is a bad idea. But everything’s been a bad idea for a long time.<br/>
<br/>
“Think of it as a trade-off,” Bane says. “You didn’t shoot me in the head when you should have.”<br/>
<br/>
“So, this is a revenge.”<br/>
<br/>
Bane breathes out. John thinks it’s a laugh.<br/>
<br/>
“Or a price.”<br/>
<br/>
“A fair price,” Bane says, shifts a little and places his left hand on John’s shoulder. It’s heavy. He needs to hold onto John or else he’s going to fall. They can’t do this standing up.<br/>
<br/>
“A fair price for not shooting you in the face.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yes.”<br/>
<br/>
“Don’t you think you’re making it a little cheap?”<br/>
<br/>
Surely Bane’s smiling at him. “No,” he says, squeezing John’s shoulder. “What do you want?”<br/>
<br/>
“Are you going to fuck me?” John asks, partly because he genuinely wants to know. If that’s what Bane is offering him, he needs to…<br/>
<br/>
He needs to stop thinking. His head is a mess already, and he’s already pressing his half-hard cock against Bane’s thigh. He’s already decided, he just doesn’t know what exactly. And Bane still has his boxers on, now wet from the shower, and John stares anyway. He stares at the shift of Bane’s cock through the boxers, the way the wet fabric clings into the shaft, the way the shape of Bane’s cock twitches when he lets go of John’s shoulder to brush his thumb against John’s chin. It seems that he wants to slip his thumb into John’s mouth.<br/>
<br/>
John opens his mouth, and Bane staggers and hits his chest against the wall. The breath he lets out is definitely from pain.<br/>
<br/>
“Bed,” John says and grabs his shoulder, even though it’s going to make no difference. He can’t hold Bane up if Bane’s going to fall. “We need to get to the bed.”<br/>
<br/>
“I thought you’d prefer shower,” Bane says, draping his arm over John’s shoulders as John tries to drag them out of the shower cubicle. “Makes it easier to forget afterwards.”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s not like that,” he says.<br/>
<br/>
“Like what?”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s not that you’re a man.”<br/>
<br/>
Bane leans onto him. Just a little more, and they’re in the bedroom. “So, you’ve been with men,” Bane says.<br/>
<br/>
“No.”<br/>
<br/>
“No?”<br/>
<br/>
“No,” John says. For a second, he thinks Bane’s trying to pet his hair, but then Bane grabs his shoulder firmly again.<br/>
<br/>
He helps Bane to sit down on the edge of the mattress. Bane is breathing faster now. It could be from the walking.<br/>
<br/>
“You got lube?” Bane asks.<br/>
<br/>
“No.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oil?”<br/>
<br/>
John doesn’t answer. His hands are shaking. Bane’s sitting on his bed, looking at him, and he’s fucking scared and also needs Bane to touch his cock right now.<br/>
<br/>
“We need something,” Bane says. His eyes are kind. Maybe John is hallucinating. “It’s going to hurt anyway.”<br/>
<br/>
It hurts anyway. John finds olive oil in the kitchen and brings it to Bane, who looks at the bottle like he doesn’t know what it is. Then he tells John to get on his elbows and knees, and John does, trying to swallow back his heart that’s in his throat. He’s not <em>scared.</em> It’s just that this is <em>a lot.</em> He feels the mattress dip when Bane settles behind him. He’s having trouble breathing. And he’s not exactly sure that Bane’s not going to kill him after all. Maybe this is a part of the plan. Maybe this is how Bane decided John should go. Maybe Bane’s going to rip him apart first and then snap his neck. Maybe -<br/>
<br/>
One of Bane’s hands settle on the low of John’s back, huge and heavy, almost comforting. And with his other hand, Bane traces in between John’s cheeks and then pushes one of his fingers into him.<br/>
<br/>
Yeah, it hurts.<br/>
<br/>
But it also wipes his mind clean for a moment.<br/>
<br/>
There’s nothing in this world that he can think of, expect what Bane’s doing to him right now.<br/>
<br/>
He doesn’t have a fucking clue what this should feel like. He doesn’t know if Bane’s being kind or cruel about this. He doesn’t know if he’s supposed to be hurting or excited or aroused or a little queasy, but that’s what he is. All of that. Also, he can’t breathe properly. Bane’s hand is a steady weight on his back and it’s good, he concentrates on that, and then Bane moves his finger again and he tries to catch his breath and can’t.<br/>
<br/>
He should tell Bane to stop. This is crazy. He didn’t want this. He’s not like this.<br/>
<br/>
He opens his mouth.<br/>
<br/>
“Robin,” Bane says, rubbing the flat of his palm back and forth on John’s back. “Just be quiet. You’re doing fine.”<br/>
<br/>
John closes his mouth. His dick has gone limp and he’s never going to get off like this. His mind is slipping away from him, into a hazy world where everything feels unreal expect the pain. He breathes in and out and tries to remember the words to tell Bane to stop. Bane would listen to him, he’s almost sure of that. If only he managed to say it. They could do something else. He could jerk Bane off. Or he could use his mouth. Bane’s cock isn’t going to fit into his mouth, of course not, but he could make the tip fit and do the rest with his hand. He’s seen something like that in porn. It might work. He just needs to say that to Bane. He needs to -<br/>
<br/>
Bane’s finger brushes against something inside him and his knees give in.<br/>
<br/>
“Good,” Bane says, wraps his free hand around John’s waist and pulls him up until he’s properly on his knees again. The spike of pleasure is fading as quickly as it came, but he clings to the memory, to the sensation, to the idea that Bane could do something like that to him.<br/>
<br/>
Bane does it again.<br/>
<br/>
And again.<br/>
<br/>
“You’re good,” Bane tells him and pulls him up from the waist every time his knees buckle. “You’re being good, John Blake. Robin.”<br/>
<br/>
He tries to catch his breath. “I don’t know for how long –“<br/>
<br/>
“Shhh,” Bane says, petting the low of his back. “This is going to take a long time.”<br/>
<br/>
“I can’t –“<br/>
<br/>
“Quiet,” Bane says to him. “I’ll do everything. Don’t you worry.”<br/>
<br/>
He doesn’t. Not for long. Bane pushes another finger into him, and he just doesn’t have enough left in him to <em>worry.</em> He has a feeling that Bane’s trying to do this slowly, but it’s like there’s no amount of time in the world that would be enough. There’s no way Bane’s cock will fit in his ass. Bane’s going to rip him apart. He closes his eyes and pants and shakes through the strokes of Bane’s fingers. This isn’t going to work. And there’s nothing he can do about it. Nothing left to save. Nothing left to care about. He’s been alone for so long that it’s fucking terrifying that the loneliness feels so <em>fresh.</em> He should’ve gotten used to it, but he hasn’t. There’s no one in this whole city who needs him, except Bane, who’s brushing his fingers against John’s prostate in a way that makes John’s mind numb. Maybe he’s pushing back against Bane’s fingers. He can’t tell for sure. He would have fallen onto the mattress already if Bane wasn’t holding him up. He would have gone crazy if he didn’t have Bane to take care of. He would have lost his mind.<br/>
<br/>
“Robin,” Bane says, and something cold touches John’s spine. Like a kiss. It must be the mask. “Are you alright?”<br/>
<br/>
“No,” he says, his voice coming out hoarse and scared. He’s not alright. He doesn’t know how to go on with his life.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m going to add the third finger,” Bane says, and John’s world shrinks into the touch. It hurts more, but he feels like he’s sinking, and that’s good. He’s not going to think about anything else. It’s going to hurt like hell. That’s what he’s going to think about. It’s going to hurt like hell, when Bane finally fucks him. And he’s going to let it happen.<br/>
<br/>
He listens to the sound of Bane’s breathing and his own heartbeat.<br/>
<br/>
When he tries to touch his own dick, Bane grabs his wrist and tells him not to. He lets go and then flinches when Bane touches his dick instead. It’s too rough to feel good, too tight to get him anywhere, but it’s making this easier. A few strokes, and his dick is pretty much as hard as it can get. The pain doesn’t mean much anymore. He bites his lip hard enough to taste blood, and Bane tells him to calm down, he’s doing so well, he’s being good, he’s being a good cop, a good man, he’s doing everything right. There’s nothing else he could have done. And everything turned out good in the end.<br/>
<br/>
At that point he realizes it’s him talking to himself.<br/>
<br/>
Bane’s quiet except for the breathing.<br/>
<br/>
When Bane pulls his fingers away, John thinks for a second that it’s over. He didn’t come. But he didn’t think he would. There was too much pain. He’s not into pain. Some people are, but not him. He’s tried to be as good as he can, all his life. He’s been trying so much.<br/>
<br/>
Bane tells him to touch his own cock, so he does. “But don’t come before I say so,” Bane says, and that’s probably good, because John’s hand on his own dick blurs away the pain. “Just enough that you’ll feel good,” Bane says, and John feels good, he does, he is jerking off slowly and everything is as fine as it’s going to be, he can feel the bulk of Bane’s thighs brushing against his, and he can feel Bane’s hands on his hips, and it’s all good.<br/>
<br/>
Bane pushes into him without a warning.<br/>
<br/>
“Come on,” Bane says, his voice coming from close to John’s ear. John can feel Bane breathing against the back of his neck, only it doesn’t feel like breathing. “Relax.”<br/>
<br/>
But he can’t relax.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m not trying to hurt you,” Bane says.<br/>
<br/>
John almost laughs, but he doesn’t have any voice left in him.<br/>
<br/>
“Keep touching your dick,” Bane says, but John’s hands aren’t working.<br/>
<br/>
Bane pushes deeper into him. He tries to move away from it, but Bane’s hands are on his hips.<br/>
<br/>
“You’re good,” Bane says. “You’re so good. And you’re pretty. You’re pretty as hell. The moment when I stopped thinking that I’d kill you, I started thinking that we should fuck.” Bane’s quiet for a second. “No, it was before that. I started thinking about fucking you before I decided I wouldn’t kill you. And I don’t regret it. I don’t regret not killing you. Because you’re perfect.”<br/>
<br/>
“Bane –“<br/>
<br/>
“Quiet,” Bane says and pushes in another inch. One of his hands disappears from John’s hips and wraps his cock instead, and that’s when he realizes he’s not touching it anymore. He can’t. He just can’t.<br/>
<br/>
But he lets Bane stroke his cock slowly and push another inch into him until he’s sure there’s nowhere more to push into, and then Bane pushes in just a little bit more.<br/>
<br/>
When Bane pulls out and fucks into him again, there’s the jolt of pleasure in the middle of the pain that makes his mind foggy.<br/>
<br/>
He’s going to come. He’s letting Bane fuck him, and he’s going to come.<br/>
<br/>
He calls Bane’s name and Bane tells him to hold on.<br/>
<br/>
He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to hold onto. But Bane’s got a hand on his dick and a cock in his ass and there’s not much he could do about it anyway.<br/>
<br/>
He pushes against the touch. There’s a sound of a siren in the distance.<br/>
<br/>
“Just a little longer,” Bane says. His skin is clinging into John’s. He’s warm and alive. “You’re doing so great. You just need to hold on just a little longer.”<br/>
<br/>
John’s shaking. He’s about to fall onto his face, but he can’t, because Bane’s stroking his dick.<br/>
<br/>
“Come on,” Bane says, “come on, come on, come on –“ And then he tells John to come, speeds up his hand and fucks into John, hitting all the right places and the wrong as well. It’s too much. It’s been too much for a long while.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
**<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
He blinks.<br/>
<br/>
Bane’s petting the side of his face with his fingers. He can smell the oil and cum in Bane’s fingers. There’s something warm and sticky dripping down his thighs. His heart is still beating too fast but not like it’s going to break him. And he can breathe.<br/>
<br/>
“You did well,” Bane says.<br/>
<br/>
“Bloody fucking <em>hell</em>,” John says.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
**<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
He sleeps with Bane’s arm draped around his waist. He’s shaking again with no reason, and Bane pulls him closer and says that he’s not going to do much sitting tomorrow, but otherwise, he’s going be alright. He shifts closer to Bane until he can feel Bane’s chest pressed lightly against his back, and Bane touches the back of his neck with the mask, breathing in and out in a steady rhythm. He thinks he can hear a bird singing somewhere but later he thinks he imagined it.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
**<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
In the morning, he makes himself coffee and Bane a protein shake, and then he changes Bane’s bandages and checks the injuries. They’re getting better. When he stands up again, Bane places a hand on his shoulder and brushes his thumb against his throat. He swallows.<br/>
<br/>
They watch the morning news on the television. A reporter reminds them of everything that Bane’s done in Gotham. Bane looks bored. After the news, Bane wants to know how bad it hurts, and John doesn’t want to tell him. If he says it out loud, he’s going to have to wonder why he went through with it, and he’s not going to do that. He doesn’t have time. He needs to figure out how to get Bane out of the city.<br/>
<br/>
Gordon calls him and asks him how he is. He says that he is fine. Gordon tells him that there’s still no news about Bane, but they’re preparing to make a full surveillance on the sewers. That’s where Gordon thinks Bane is, if he’s still in the city. Or where his body is. It’s going to take a day or two to arrange everything, but then the cops of Gotham are going to search the sewers inch by inch. They’re going to find Bane and make him face the justice of Gotham, dead or alive.<br/>
<br/>
Bane’s sitting on the sofa, drinking his strawberry yoghurt.<br/>
<br/>
John puts the phone away and tells him he needs to leave now.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
**<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
They wait until the night.<br/>
<br/>
There’s a talk show on the television in which people talk about what they would like to do to Bane if they caught him alive.<br/>
<br/>
It’s raining. John goes to the drug store two blocks down the street to buy food and almost runs back. But Bane is still there, in John’s flat, sitting on John’s sofa, and his eyes are gentle as John rushes through the front door.<br/>
<br/>
He wants to ask Bane where the man is going to go. He wants to make Bane promise that he’s going to at least try to live. He wants to thank Bane from the last night and also kick him in the balls. Instead, he fills a backpack with protein powder and clean bandages and disinfectant and water and everything Bane might need. Then he stands in the doorway as Bane takes the backpack and walks through the hallway with staggering steps. He’s sure he’s never going to see Bane again.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
**<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
Two days later, he’s just turned on the television, when there’s a news clip about Bane. He’s kneeling on the floor in a cell, handcuffed and tied. There’re bruises all over his bare shoulders and he’s got a black eye. The reporter says in a delighted tone that the police caught him in the sewers only a few hours ago as he was trying to escape Gotham. It was close. One more hour, and he would have gotten away. Everyone in Gotham is happy and relieved about his capture. What is still a mystery is who has been tending his injuries and preparing him for the escape, but Commissioner Gordon from the Gotham City Police Department promises the people of Gotham that Bane’s partner is going to get caught soon.<br/>
<br/>
John calls Gordon and tells him that he has changed his mind. He wants back.</p>
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